


slashing tires

by inkk, ShadesinBlue



Series: patience [6]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 20:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesinBlue/pseuds/ShadesinBlue
Summary: "Fuck off," Duff retorts, eyes flashing in anger. "You don't know shit.""Oh yeah?" Axl challenges, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. "I may not be Albert fuckin' Einstein, but I'd love to hear you tell me it doesn't bother you that he's going around tellin' everyone with ears what you sound like when you get off."(a shattered windshield. a suspension. the aftermath.)





	slashing tires

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything, and the following is a complete work of fiction.  
> Thank you again to [@inkk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk) for co-writing this piece with me.

Axl knows something is off the moment he walks into school and catches sight of the look on Steven’s stupid face.

“What?” Axl asks flatly, not slowing his pace as he marches brusquely down the hall.

Predictably, Steven follows, hurriedly tagging along beside him - “So? Did you say anything to him?” he asks, sounding far too excited for 8 o’clock on a Monday morning.

Axl turns his head slightly in order to shoot him a suspicious glance. “To who? ‘Bout what?”

“Oh,” Steven says. Then, “ _Oh_.” He nearly careens into the wall when Axl abruptly stops walking and turns to face him instead. “I mean, everyone’s talkin’ about it,” he laughs, a little skittishly. “I just thought since— Well, I mean.”

“Spit it out, Adler,” Axl narrows his eyes. His expression darkens further when he sets his jaw into a scowl and adds, “This is about McKagan, isn’t it?”

“I…” Steven falters, glancing over to his right. “I mean, I dunno if you should hear it from me, I’m not sure about all the details. It could be fake, or a rumour, or—”

Axl huffs an irritated exhale and turns on his heel to keep walking. He doesn’t have time to indulge Steven’s one-track mind for gossip, and the bell is about to ring.

Nevertheless, the remark still sets a knot of apprehension into his stomach as he strides into chemistry— on time, for once. The teacher’s gaze follows him as he enters and slings his backpack down beside the desk before assuming his usual seat in the back corner of the room.

Axl slouches down in his chair as he pulls out his phone, not bothering to fish out his books. He flicks past his lockscreen and password as the teacher starts attendance, beginning with A’s and slipping directly into the B’s. Axl gives a vague grunt of acknowledgement when he hears his last name called, opening his texts and pulling up Izzy’s contact.

**Axl:** So what happened yesterday then

He barely has to wait ten seconds before Izzy’s reply comes through.

**Izzy:** party. a kegger. some punk i don’t know.  
**Izzy:** not as good as mine.  
**Izzy** ...but yeah, slash and duff were there :-/

Axl frowns down at his screen for a second before formulating a reply.

**Axl:** What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

**Izzy:** i only heard vague details, man.

Axl resists pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. But before he can hit send on his reply, another message comes through:

**Izzy:** yo, ok. so. look. you're going to find out about it one way or another, but i didn't want to be the one to have to tell you  
**Izzy:** they uhhh…... slept together. it was kind of a Thing and a lot of people know about it  
**Izzy:** im sorry?? :-(  
**Izzy:** i'll see you at lunch and we can talk, i gotta go, please for fucks sakes don’t do anything stupid . 

Axl takes a second to read the flurry of texts, and then he reads them again. Something glitches in his brain a little. He sets his phone down, fingers flexing into a loose fist against his thigh.

Slash and Duff, then.

Together.

+

The lunchroom is buzzing with noise, the typical soundtrack of laughs, shouts, and commentary bombarding his ears as soon as he swings the heavy cafeteria door open. The sound cuts out almost immediately, dozens of eyes swinging to stare at him, straight from a scene in a fucking high school movie. Axl sneers, meeting the eyes of those closest to him who quickly avert their curious gazes. He holds his head high as he stalks past whispering tables, eyes locked dead ahead on Izzy’s familiar black cap. 

Flinging himself into the seat across from Izzy, Axl fights the urge to rub the back of his neck, hyper-aware of the stares leveled at him, waiting for a reaction that Axl refuses to give. Though, in all honesty, he’s been mostly stunned since Izzy’s last texts came through. He’d sat through the remainder of chemistry in a daze, stumbling from the room as soon as class had ended. 

It’s fine though, he guesses. The better he is at suppressing the thought of Duff-–no, of Slash and Duff. His nails bite into the fleshy area of his palm, the stinging pain focusing Axl back on the present. Swallowing hard, he shoves the images rising up away.

“So,” he says carefully, aware of the ears listening in. “What’s up?” He couldn’t sound faker if he tried. Still, he keeps the nonchalant smirk pasted on his face, begging Izzy with his eyes to ignore the obvious problem for now. 

Izzy hesitates for just a second before giving Axl a tiny half-smile. Axl relaxes in relief. “Nothing much, just reminded how much I fuckin’ hate this place and all the nosy fuckers in it.” He shoots daggers over Axl’s shoulder, and Axl can hear the sound of chair legs screeching as their inhabitants turn back around. 

Izzy returns his gaze to Axl, dark eyes searching. “You okay?” 

It’s such a simple question. An easy out. Axl can just say, yeah, of course he’s fine, why wouldn’t he be? But the words are lodged in his throat, refusing to come out no matter how he pushes for them to emerge. And behind his eyes, Axl can picture hands on Duff, lips on Duff’s own, a voice that isn’t his whispering in Duff’s ear, and it’s not fair at all, it should’ve been Axl—

“Dude,” Izzy is leaning across the table, eyebrows scrunched in the best display of concern his stoic face can manage. “Come on, breathe, you’ve gotta relax.” Izzy opens his mouth to say something else, but then his eyes flicker up behind Axl, just past his shoulder. His mouth scrunches into a tight line, eyes darkening. “Shit,” he mutters.

Axl would ask what the hell he’s talking about but turns out he doesn’t have to. The voice he wants to hear least in the damn world decides to chime in from behind him. 

“Hey, Axe. Didn’t mean to interrupt your little pow-wow with Stradlin here or nothin’, just had a real quick question.”

Axl turns in his seat, slow, willing his temper down. Slash stands in front of him, head cocked down to smirk at Axl with a smug satisfaction that sets his teeth on edge. Axl glares as Slash lifts a hand to tug at the collar of his leather jacket, hair partially obscuring the sick glee in his eyes. 

Axl is close to telling Slash to fuck off before he throws a warning punch. The thought freezes in his mind as his eyes fixate on exactly what Slash is trying to show him. Clasped around his neck, resting in the dip of his collarbones, lies the necklace. Axl’s necklace. The one Duff had tried to give him that day, before everything went so horribly wrong. 

He tears his gaze away after a moment of silence, speechless as he meets Slash’s eyes again. A grin spreads across Slash’s face, predatory and cruel. 

“Just wanted to get your opinion.” He cocks his head, curls bouncing. “You think this looks better on you, or on me?”

Axl’s enraged silence must encourage him to continue speaking. “I know it must be hard and all, seein’ this on me, me with him…” Slash trails off, toying with the silver chain. “But you know how it is, Rose. Things change, people sometimes just don’t work together.” Slash studies Axl, eyes betraying his malice despite his cocky grin. “Ain’t that what you said when you broke things off with me?”

Axl grits his teeth hard. “You shut your whore fuckin’ mouth, Slash, or I swear to God, I’ll choke you out myself.”

Slash laughs, entirely unperturbed. “Oh, yeah. Big talk from the tough guy, I know the drill.” He steps around the table and takes a seat across from Axl, leaning forward onto his elbows in a way that practically drips insolence. “So I take it you heard the big news, then?”

Axl refuses to give him the benefit of a reaction. He keeps his voice entirely blank when he says, “I think it’s safe to say everyone did.”

A snort of agreement, followed by a lazy, arrogant smirk. “Yeah, that’s for sure,” Slash chuckles. “Can’t say I expected our little Duffy to be a screamer, but I certainly wasn’t disappointed.”

A muscle ticks in Axl’s jaw. He feels Izzy’s hand nudge at his thigh beneath the table—a quiet warning.

Slash just leans back in his chair, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Not that you’d know, would you? McKagan was a straight up blushing virgin. Or at least until yesterday, that is.” His expression shifts into contemplation, dark eyes flickering maliciously beneath his mound of hair. “I’m actually a little surprised you never did him, to be honest. You missed out big time. With those legs, and that sweet, sweet ass…” he whistles, “Damn.”

His slick grin makes Axl’s skin crawl.

“He’s pretty good, for a beginner,” Slash continues. “But I guess they say enthusiasm is what really matters, right? I barely had time to unzip my fuckin’ pants before he was bending over.”

Axl stands abruptly, chair screeching as it skids out from behind his knees. He shoots one look at Izzy’s stony, unamused expression, then turns to Slash and says, “You’d better shut your goddamn trap before you get what’s comin’ to you, shitfuck. I’ll punch your teeth in faster than you can say ‘blowjob’.”

The whispers are hushed as he stalks out. Axl exits out the school’s main entrance, the halls blurring around him in flashes of bright lights and color. The day isn’t even halfway over and he already feels seconds away from exploding on everyone and anyone who crosses his line of sight. There’s absolutely no chance in hell he’s waiting out the rest of the school day. Not with the possibility of seeing Slash again. Or worse, Duff.

Boots thumping hard against the concrete stairs, Axl decides to keep going when he hears the second pair of footsteps closing in on him. A hand latches onto his shoulder, spinning him around with the force of his own momentum, and Axl is ready to lash out with his fists when he sees that it’s only Izzy. 

“I’m fuckin’ leaving and don’t you dare try to stop me, Jeffrey.” Axl pants, chest heaving with pent up emotion. Wrenching his shoulder out from under Izzy’s firm grasp, Axl turns on his heel, mind set on escaping, once again. 

“Wait, man. Axl, fuckin’ wait a damn second!” Izzy skids to a stop in Axl’s path, hands outstretched and placating.

“What?” he snarls, voice escaping through clenched teeth. He’s so furious that he’s shaking, his whole body quivering like a bow drawn taut. 

“Listen, why don’t we both go somewhere, talk it over—”

“There’s not a damn thing I want to talk about, Izz!” Axl stifles the urge to fidget, to pace until his thoughts slow and start to make sense again. “I don’t wanna talk about that dipshit in there, talkin’ out his ass. I definitely don’t wanna talk about--” Axl swallows around the name, shaking his head hard. He steps forward, attempting to move around Izzy. 

Of course, the fucking bastard blocks him with a neat little side-step that makes Axl want to scream. “Move,” he grits out, fists clenched.

“Or what?” Izzy raises an eyebrow. “You gonna hit me too, Axe?”

“Keep standin’ in my way, asshole, and we’ll find out,” Axl hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Y’know,” Izzy sighs, glances to the side, then back to Axl. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you aren’t the only one upset to hear about all this?” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, thin fingers fluttering. “Maybe you aren’t the only one who cares about Duff?”

Axl growls at that, at the sheer fucking audacity Izzy has to imply that he has any idea how Axl is feeling right now. Nostrils flaring, Axl takes a careful step closer, until the two of them are nose-to-nose. Izzy meets his eyes, composed as ever. 

“Don’t even compare it.” Axl exhales a shaky breath. “I know he’s your friend, Izz, but don’t you dare say it’s the same thing we’re feelin’, cause it’s not.”

“I know,” Izzy nods, eyes holding Axl’s. “I’m not the one who’s in love with him.”

At that, Axl backs off like Izzy’s words have burned him. His face is red, automatically shaking his head as he sputters out sounds that aren’t quite forming into words. After the initial shock, he opens his mouth to protest that it’s not true, but Izzy beats him to it, holding up a hand.

“Spare me whatever bullshit you were about to say. You’re tryin’ to deny what everybody already knows cause you’re too chickenshit to admit the truth. And that’s fine, that’s your prerogative.” He snorts, eyeing Axl up and down. “But you actin’ this way? It’s not gonna do nothin’ to help you or Duff. And it certainly ain’t helping you get back with Duff.” 

“Did you hear what Slash was sayin’ in there?” Axl demands, voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it steady. “Cause I sure as hell did, Izzy. It’s like a damn record, playin’ over and over, up here.” He raps the side of his head with a fist. “I can’t fuckin’ stand it! I just wish it would stop.”

Izzy levels him with a look of sympathy that Axl wants to wipe off his face. “I get you’re upset. But Axe, Duff can make his own choices, whether you like ‘em or not. And right now he wants to date Slash.” Izzy’s shoulders slump as he shrugs, looking off into the distance. “It’s over, Axl. It’s fuckin’ done, and you can’t change it, okay?”

Axl bites the inside of his mouth hard enough he can taste the bitter, iron tang of his blood. He looks down, nods once to show Izzy he understands. 

Izzy sighs, again. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I really am. But sometimes that’s just the way shit goes.” He pats Axl’s shoulder, once, before letting his hand fall to his side. “You gonna be okay to get home?”

Axl nods again, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Good. And listen,” Izzy pauses for a second, “Just...just don’t do anything stupid. It ain’t worth it.” And then he’s walking back up the school steps, the heels of his boots clacking against the stairs on his way in. 

Axl trudges to his truck. Izzy’s words overlap with Slash’s, circling in his mind. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, hoping the action will clear his thoughts, but no such luck. Groaning, Axl moves to unlock his door when a glint of dull red catches his attention in the reflective surface of his window. 

Axl can make out the flaking, obnoxious paint covering Slash’s car. Parked right here, in the empty lot, taunting him. He thinks of how Slash drives it around, flaunts the garbage on wheels like it’s his pride and joy. Axl grimaces, turning round to take it in. His hands tighten around the keys still held in his grasp.

Oh, he’s far from fucking done. 

 

+

 

It’s worth it when the car alarm goes off, the windshield cracking with a satisfying crunch when Axl beats spiderwebs into it using his chemistry textbook. The wailing sound is loud and annoying up close —much like the car’s owner— but it still doesn’t discourage him from rounding the vehicle and doing the same to both driver’s side windows. The headlights shatter easier than he expects, caving in with a hard cracking sound and spraying orange-tinted plastic across the concrete. He’s already had the foresight to take care of all four tires, courtesy of a swift jab from his favourite pocket knife.

The school doors fly open just as Axl is kicking off the passenger side mirror for good measure. He doesn’t have much time to step back and admire his handiwork before the yelling starts, but despite the alarmingly beet-red shade of the principal’s face, he’s still smirking in satisfaction when they slap him with the two-week suspension notice.

The letters C-U-N-T looked right at home scratched into the side of Slash’s car, if he does say so himself.

It’s a shame, really, that he doesn’t get to see Slash’s reaction to the finished product; Axl would have liked to be there to witness the look on that smug asshole’s face—jaw dropping in horror, smirk nowhere to be seen, and all that anger boiling in his blood with nowhere to put it.

Talk shit, get hit. And although Slash is undoubtedly still going to go around acting like a smarmy dickhead, it does bring Axl the tiniest shred of peace to know that at least now his car is being salvaged for parts in a scrap yard somewhere. He deserved it; Axl himself may be stuck working night shifts for the next month to pay it off, but damn, did it feel good to watch his keys dig into that paint.

 

+

 

“He’s _your_ fuckin’ psycho-ass boyfriend!” Saul had screamed at him, slamming the door of Duff’s car like it offended him by being unmarred. Unlike his own. “You better deal with him, or I swear on my own fucking grave, I will, McKagan!”

Duff hasn’t seen Saul since. It’s been a week since the car incident took place, leaving plenty of time for Saul to cool down, reconsider his words, and forgive Duff for his crime by association. Of course, Duff hadn’t taken into account Saul’s stubborn, prideful mindset when it comes to dealing with problems. He’s sick and tired of being snubbed in the school hallways, Saul turning his head in the opposite direction whenever Duff dares to approach his general vicinity. Any texts or calls have been ignored, or worse, answered with passive-aggressive, one-word replies.

Duff’s come to the conclusion that if he ever wants Saul to speak to him again, he’s going to have to confront Axl. Which is why he’s currently standing at Axl’s front door, fist raised to knock in the same position it’s been in for the last two minutes. Glancing to the side, Duff finds himself eternally grateful that Axl’s mother seems to be out. The last thing he wants is her overhearing the inevitable screaming match that’s about to occur on her front porch. 

Duff takes a deep breath, shuffles in place, attempting to get his fidgeting out now, before he’s faced with Axl. He doesn’t want to betray any emotion, especially the mass of nerves rolling in his gut at the thought of facing Axl again. Particularly, now that Axl _knows_. 

Duff brushes the thought away, determined to ignore the flutter of unease in his chest. He’s done nothing wrong and it isn’t any of Axl’s damn business who Duff decides to sleep with. He’s missed his chance, and he has no right to get pissy about it now.

Duff knocks hard before he can talk himself out of it. The harsh rapping against wood echoes in the quiet air, and he takes a step away from the door, waiting. To mixed feelings of relief and annoyance, Axl doesn’t answer. He eyes the beaten-up truck parked in the street, corners of his mouth twisting down. He knocks again, louder. No answer, yet again. 

There’s no way in hell Duff is letting Axl ignore him like he’s not even here. Duff pounds on the door, throwing all of his strength into it, letting the chipped door rattle on its hinges. When Axl still doesn’t appear, Duff lets out a huff of frustration, ready to start yelling. 

He opens his mouth to do just that when the door swings wide. Axl stands there, hair slightly frazzled, like he’d been in bed moments ago. His eyes are a dark, bleary green in the lighting. They focus on Duff pretty quick though, even in his haggard, tired state; Duff watches the play of emotions scatter across Axl’s face before it closes off entirely, blank. 

“You need somethin’, McKagan?” Axl leans against the doorway, causally cool despite the stain decorating the front of his ratty hoodie. Duff blinks at him, swallows, suddenly aware of the way he’s subconsciously been searching for that bright red hair at school the past week. 

“Yeah,” Duff clears his throat, cursing himself for letting his voice get so soft at the mere sight of Axl. He’s pathetic, it’s embarrassing. Duff forces himself to calm, adopting the blasé, sneering face he’s seen Slash put on so many times.

“Yeah, I’ve got something to say,” he starts again. 

“Well,” Axl tilts his head to the side, maintaining eye contact, “Go on. I’m all ears.”

“I came to tell you to stay the fuck away from my boyfriend and I,” Duff tells him, an edge to his tone despite the heat rising to his cheeks in response to Axl’s unflinching gaze. “You have no fucking right to pull a stunt like this, you hear me? We’re not together anymore, so fuck off and stop chasing me around as if I owe you anything. Because I don’t. I’m sick of your temper tantrums. And stay the hell away from Saul, too. You’ve done enough.”

There’s a brief pause between them. Something unamused flickers in Axl’s eyes. “And your loudmouth, sonofabitch excuse for a fuckbuddy couldn’t come here to say that for himself?”

Duff glares. “He didn’t _send_ me, I—“

“Really,” Axl interrupts, cutting him off with a raised eyebrow. “Interesting. ‘Cause it sure sounds to me like he did.”

Duff feels himself flush further. “Shut up. I’m not a messenger, and I’m not a fucking toy either, okay?” he snaps. “You don’t get to throw me away, and then decide to suddenly start caring about me just because someone else picked me up. Just drop the asshole act and leave me the fuck alone.”

Axl’s expression turns dark. “You didn’t hear those things he said,” he says lowly, disgust seeping into his tone. “He’s no good, Duffy. I can see it, and everyone else can see it. He’s just usin’ you.”

“Fuck off,” Duff retorts, eyes flashing in anger. “You don’t know shit.”

“Oh yeah?” Axl challenges, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. “I may not be Albert fuckin’ Einstein, but I’d _love_ to hear you tell me it doesn’t bother you that he’s going around tellin’ everyone with ears what you sound like when you get off.”

For a second, there’s a pause between them. Duff swallows, willing the red to fade from his cheeks. He shifts his weight but still stands his ground. “It’s none of your business,” he finally manages, the words sounding less defiant than he wants them to.

Axl snorts. “Seems like it’s turnin’ into the whole school’s business these days,” he replies flatly, a hint of acid in his words. “Pretty hard to ignore when that slimy fucker won’t shut up about how pretty you look sittin’ on his dick, huh?”

Duff grits his teeth. “It’s none of your business,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Axl says, unblinking and unimpressed, “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

Duff doesn’t have a chance to speak again before the door swings shut in his face.

+

The door to Saul’s house opens, and Duff is grateful that he’s not being ignored. Saul pokes his head out, eyes narrowed with annoyance. The expression wipes clear off his face once he takes in the slight tremble running down Duff’s body, the lips chapped from biting. 

“Baby,” he says, drawing Duff into his house immediately, warm hands encircling Duff’s wrists.

Pulling Duff up the stairs to his room, Saul shuts the door behind them and locks it. Duff collapses onto the bed, feeling worn out from his previous encounter with Axl. Of course, he’d had to get the last word in before slamming the door in Duff’s face and refusing to come back out, no matter how much he had shouted or knocked. 

Saul crawls over to Duff, tugging him into his lap. The feeling of Saul’s hands running through his hair calms him, and he closes his eyes. 

“Duffy,” Saul whispers into his ear, voice absurdly gentle in that way Saul can sometimes be with him. “What happened, baby? You look like you’re seconds away from cryin’.”

Duff sighs, tucking his head under Saul’s chin. “Went to talk to Axl. Fucker shut the door in my face after implying some real messed up shit.” 

He feels Saul stiffen underneath him. “What kinda stuff?”

Duff shrugs, staring down at his lap. “About you and me. What we did.” 

“Duff.” Saul pulls Duff’s face up, forcing him to look into Saul’s eyes. “You know there’s nothing wrong with what we did. It’s totally natural, nothin’ to be ashamed of, okay? Rose is an asshole, judgin’ you for that shit.” Saul snorts, face twisting with something ugly. “Ain’t like he’s gonna be wearin’ white at his wedding.”

But that hadn’t been what Axl was saying, or implying. He’d been angry over Saul talking about Duff. The words fly out of his mouth before he can think to stop them. 

“Saul, have you been telling people about us sleeping together?”

Saul blinks down at him. A sweet smile pulls his lips up as he strokes Duff’s face. “A few friends, maybe. But what’s wrong with that?” He tilts his head to the side, curls shaking with his movements. “You’re beautiful. I wanna share what we did.”

At Duff’s unbelieving stare, Saul smirks. “Babe, listen, cause I’m gonna tell ya’ the truth. What happened? Talkin’ about it? People hearin’ about it, and liking to hear about it? That’s normal. Sex is normal, ‘cause it’s fuckin’ great.” He smooths a strand of hair behind Duff’s ear, dark eyes glittering. “It ain’t gonna make you vulnerable, people knowin’. It’s gonna make you strong.” His smirk widens. “You wanna be strong, right, Duffy?”

“Yes,” Duff answers truthfully, because he does, more than anything. To not ever have to cry over Axl Rose again. To not hurt over anything. 

“Then it’s all fine.”

Duff thinks of what Axl had mentioned about the specifics of Saul’s bragging. “And you’re telling me right now, you’re just telling friends we slept together. No one else, and nothing specific?” Because rumors happen, Duff knows. The things Axl heard could have come from anywhere, not necessarily Saul. 

Saul meets Duff’s eyes, answers without hesitation. “No. I haven’t said anything else, babe, I swear.” He sneers. “And if your asswipe ex said I did, he’s a fuckin’ liar.”

That doesn’t sound right. Axl’s a lot of things, but he’s never been one for dishonesty. “Why would he lie?” Duff asks out loud.

Saul rolls his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious, McKagan? He’s jealous.” The hands holding Duff tighten, almost imperceptibly. “The two people he screwed over, did his best to fuckin’ break, are together now. And he’s gotta watch it.” Something close to glee flits across Saul’s face, gone before Duff can study it. “He lost, Duffy. We won.”

Duff scrunches his eyebrows, confused. He doesn’t know when the hell winning came into the picture but decides not to question it. Saul’s just stopped being angry with him, and he doesn’t want to ruin it over Axl. 

Saul chuckles, tracing his hands down Duff’s sides until they settle at his hips. “How about to make up for the way I was treatin’ ya this week, we go out tonight? Do somethin’ fun?”

Duff opens his mouth to ask just what exactly Saul has in mind, but closes it promptly when he sees the baggie pulled from the pocket of Saul’s leather jacket. Duff eyes the little pink pills tucked inside. 

Saul grins. “I know just the place to go.”

+

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, keep an eye out for future installments coming out.  
> Find us on tumblr:  
> [@shotgunmessiahs](http://shotgunmessiahs.tumblr.com)  
> [@thebyegonedays](https://thebyegonedays.tumblr.com)


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